Troubled Friends in the Kitchen
by MouseyMoose
Summary: (Mouse) "They asses the room before they move. They start walking-past one girl...then the next...but they don't walk past the third. Instead they go for the young twelve year old, seemingly innocent as she sleeps. This would have been totally clean if the second girl wasn't tightening her grip around her metal baton, listening to their every move."


Blew out then came back.

Bang.

Blew out then came back.

Bang.

Blew out then came back.

Bang.

That was the sound the blinds made as they moved with the breeze. The steady pattern became a lullaby for three girls in the room, rocking all of them to sleep into dreams of joy and peace, something never to be found in the Orphanage of Hell's Kitchen.

The youngest, only twelve, of the three was newest to the Orphanage, only arriving it two weeks ago. She slept in the bed closest to the door and furthest from the window. She was subconsciously trying to part herself from the reality of what now is her surroundings. She was from the suburbs of the Kitchen where she was loved and fed. A robbery broke that dream though and left her here until her remaining family decides who gets her. Her world was crashing in around her, so the fact she was asleep was a blessing in itself.

The girl in the middle bed was the oldest, fifteen, and had been at the Orphanage most of her life. Some said she ruled it and the school. Not with bullying or drugs, but with being stern and keeping the peace. If there was a problem, it would be brought to her, and it would be settled. She had been in many homes, but always came back. And when she did, her reign was resumed without question or quarrel. She was in the middle bed, subconsciously being the guard for the two other girls. Being ready to defend at anytime. She might have looked to be sleeping, but her arm hung down to where a baton was hiding under the bed.

The girl in the last bed was the best friend of the second girl, and was only a few months younger. She had also been at the Orphanage for a long time. But she had a nice home for about a year, before being pulled from it due to finding out the father was a dirty cop. The mother had her own children to take care of and could not afford to keep the girl under her roof, so back to the Orphanage she came. But it had been two years since then, and she felt more at home here, by her friends side, than any other home could offer. She placed herself in the bed at the end because, even though her friend is the stronger of the two, she still feels just as responsible for her friend's well being and wants to protect her from the world outside that window like her friend did. She dreams of brighter, younger days that she wishes to be true some day.

Blew out then came back.

Bang.

Blew out then came back.

Bang.

Blew out…but didn't come back.

…

The girl in the middle bed stirs from her light sleep, but doesn't move. She waits for it. The bang…where is it? She waits for it…but where is it?

The only sound she is greeted with, however, is the sound of the window creaking open a little more. As it whines, reluctantly moving, the girl uses its sound to mask the sound of her closing the distance between her and her baton.

The next noise she hears is a grunt from a man pulling himself up to the second story window, and then his boots scuffing the wall before hitting the floor, quietly as not to wake those that are still asleep. As the first man tiptoes further into the room, the sound of a second man follows him. The second man mimics the first with every move, except the second man goes to the window and whispers something down in a language, probably Russian, and comes back in.

They asses the room before they move. They start walking-past one girl…then the next…but they don't walk past the third. Instead they go for the young twelve year old, seemingly innocent as she sleeps. This would have been totally clean if the second girl wasn't tightening her grip around her metal baton, listening to their every move.

She tenses as she hears a bottle being quietly shaken, the smell fills the room quickly. Chloroform. As the men walk closer to the youngest, she tenses again, praying to anyone who is listening that this goes smoothly.

The first man with the rag went between her and the younger girl and bent over to get to the girls face. The second went to the other side of the younger's bed and watched as his friend almost closed the distance between the rag and the poor girl. Before that could happen though, the second girl jumped from her bed and quickly hit the first man in the back of the head with the baton. He went down, but not out.

Now that the girls eyes were opened, she could see that these Russians were much…much bigger than she expected. But she was gonna hold her own all the same.

The first one had gone down practically on top of the younger girl, waking her up. It took her less than three seconds to piece together the Russian swearing at her feet, another on the right of her bed, and one of the other girls on the left of her bed holding a baton. She screamed a scream of impossible heights, waking the third girl, and probably the whole Orphanage, in the process.

The second Russian was now making his way around the bed to the girl with the baton. He was probably double her weight and could take her without a problem, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try. She swung, he moved. He swung, she moved. Except her movements involved a baton to the man's gut. He joined his friend in cursing before standing straight up and swinging again at the girl. The man might have been twice her size, but she was a much smaller target, and therefore harder to hit. She moved around his fist and hit the man in the back.

At this point, her friend was up, and running for the younger girl, her short brown hair bouncing with each step she took. She tried to stay back as her friend attacked the second man again. When she could, she slipped past them and ran over to the younger girl that seemed to be in a state of shock. She reached for the younger and pulled her out of her bed, only to have her arm grabbed by the first Russian. The younger screamed again, and the friend did what came to her mind.

She shoved the younger towards the door and yelled, "PULL THE FIRE ALARM! GO!" She assumed the girl had, but suddenly had a hard time seeing as she was lifted off her feet, the collar of her nightshirt strangling her.

She kicked against the man's stomach, cursing her small stature that made her very easy to lift, and watched as her friend was thrown against the wall, dropping her baton. Her friend had done a heck of a lot though, seeing that the second man's head was split and nose was bleeding. He was also breathless and walked with a slight limp.

Her friend jumped to her feet again, barely missing the fist that swung in her direction. She kicked back the man with all of her strength, but he only fell to the middle of the room. Before he hit the floor, the fire alarm rang out and the water sprinklers turned on as the sound of kids rushing from their bedrooms went by.

The Russians had a choice, leave with nothing, or something other than what they had intended for. They choose the latter, spewing words to each other in Russian as the first Russian grabbed the rag he had dropped earlier and held it over the face of the girl suspended in the air, struggling to breathe already.

"NO!" her friend screamed, and was about to run for her, but the baton the second Russian had thrown that collided with her head put a damper on that. She dropped to the ground like a heavy paper weight. The way her head bounced made her friend sick.

She had tried to hold her breath as the rag was placed over her face, still reeking of Chloroform, but her breath was already in short supply and the second Russian standing and hitting her in the chest caused her to let go of the air she was holding in. The only option was to suck more in. That was all she remembered before her head dropped to her chest. Like a rag doll, she was draped over the first man's shoulders as they made their way to the window again.

A nun rushed in and rolled the other girl over, waking her from a light KO she found. She was slowly coming around before she saw the shadows against her window fading away. The adrenaline cleared her head for her and threw her to her feet. Her eyes looked around the room, but didn't see the person she was looking for. She raced to the window only to see two men scaling down the wall with a third on the ground, but more importantly, with a young girl slung over ones shoulder.

She wasted no time running past the nun that tried to calm her, grabbing her baton on the way. She raced through the halls full of kids and pushed down the stairs. She ran through the hall again, taking a short cut to the outside through someone's open window. She scanned the horizon before seeing what she was looking for, three men running down the alley cross the street.

She dashed crossed the street, hopping a car hood across the way. She raced down the alley and stopped at the Y in the alley, and looked to the right. When she turned to look the other way, she was greeted with the face she had kindly bloodied earlier. He pushed her against the brick wall and held a rag to her face. She swung her baton again and hit him hard in the head. There was a sickening crack that echoed through the alley as he fell.

His two friends where at a loss for words or moments as they watched their friend not get up again. Then a surge of anger flooded into both of them as the one dropped her friend, and they both started stalking towards her, spewing some curses in Russian.

The adrenaline was her friend earlier, but even it could only do so much with her breathlessness. She tried to straighten as the two men came at her, but she knew she couldn't hold her own for long. That was only reassured as she noticed the blood falling down the side of her head for the first time. She apparently had been bleeding for a while, cause a section of her waist long hair was red from blood. As the adrenaline wore off, her legs began to question their strength, and her head started swimming. So if someone told her what happened next was a dream, she might believe them.

A blur of dark red figure fell down in front of her just before the two men closed in on her. The figure had only stood there, but already the men were considering retreat. In quick fluid motions, he had his own batons and was going at the two men.

As he did, the girl ran over to her friend that was lying in a heap on the ground and fell beside her. The original plan was to lift her, considerably smaller, friend and carry her to safety. But her legs now felt like they couldn't lift her own weight, let alone her friend. So she went to plan B, which was moving her friend further into the corner and become a barrier between the fight and her friend.

She still heard the fight going on. It didn't take long for the first man to fall and not get back up. But the third was still putting up a fight against the figure that was clearly faster, stronger, and more skilled than the Russian. But even his attempts were short lived, and he fell to the ground along with his friends.

The girl sat up slightly as the only other sounds were her friend's labored breathing, the sounds of sirens coming closer, and the hard breathing of the figure that now stood behind her.

"You okay?" he breathless asked, more of a growl actually.

The girl turned herself around to face the figure, man, that had just saved her. "No! Not really!" She snarkly said. Her patience was still sleeping she guessed.

He moved to stand over her and her friend, "Was she drugged?" he ask.

She rose to her feet now to face him. Her brain was slow now and fading in and out, but even a dull brain knew who she was standing in front of. At the moment however, she could have been standing in front of Wilson Fisk cause it didn't matter. "Yeah. She was. Is she gonna be okay?" she asked.

He cocked his head to one side and then answered, "She'll be just fine in an hour." He turned and faced her now, "You saved her life." She didn't answer. He pointed to the Russian that she had hit and killed, she guessed, "Do you know what you did?" he asked, as if trying to make her feel guilty.

She stared him in the face, not looking to where he was pointing. She knew what she did, but her mind was just now letting it set as she was trying to get her mind clear. "No crap?! Yeah, I know what I did!"

"And your okay with it?" was he trying to make her feel guilty?

She stood as straight as she could, "He attacked my friend, so shove it!" Her words were meant to be followed with her turning and kneeling to get to her friend again, but she only made it to the turning part before her legs thought she needed a short cut to the ground. She would have fallen straight down, but the Devil was there to ketch her. He lowered to the ground slowly and held her against his chest.

Her brain fought against the fog that was trying to turn her off. She reached for her friends hand but was a little short. She tried to shift in the Devils arms as he was doing…something behind her. Was he making a phone call? Hmm…even the Devil had to make a phone call she guessed. But that wasn't important. What was, was her friend, still in a heap on the ground, and betraying the odds with her almost peaceful face. She looked like she did earlier this night, lost in a dream she would wish for to come true.

Again, she struggled in the arms of her savior as her mind was losing the battle against the fog. She reached, but was still short. Then, the Devil moved towards her friend, just enough for her to be able to reach. She was safe, her friend was safe. The Devil had saved them. She gave into the defeat against the fog, and was out.

…

A little over an hour later, the friend woke with a start. She was shocked to see her surroundings looked hospital like as opposed to some dungeon or wherever their destination had once been. She didn't understand.

Just then a nurse came in. She was colored and had black hair. Her voice was soft but and slow as she spoke. "Hello. How are you feeling?"

"Whe…Where-" she slowly began.

"You are in a hospital. You are safe now. Do you remember coming in?" the nurse asked again.

The girl only lolled her head back and forth on her pillow. She thought hard about what she did remember. Waking up to the scream of the younger, her best friend fighting with the Russians…her best friend….

She lunged up in her bed, and the nurse had to push her back down, "My friend! Where is my friend?!" She asked.

"She's okay! She's okay! Look!" The nurse moved over a little so the girl could look over passed her.

When she looked to her right, what she saw wasn't exactly what she wanted to see. She wanted to see her friend towering over her, smiling like something crazy, with her wild long hair falling down her hips. But instead, she saw her friend in a hospital, head wrapped with a bandage, and oxygen tube around her nose.

"When she wakes she'll have a wicked headache, but she will be just fine." The nurse said again, but the girl didn't reply. Instead she began to tear up at the state of her friend. Quick to reassure the girl the nurse said, "The police said that the DareDevil saved her."

The girl stared at her friend a moment longer before breaking a short laugh. "That lucky idiot."

…

Howdy! So this story is kinda a small follow up to a shorter, happier story I did called Two Friends in the Kitchen. It is about these two girls again, so go check that out! If you couldn't read through this story without trouble, I'm sorry. I don't always write like this. Only for these stories, I swear! But I have a page of my own if you would like to check it out called MouseTalk, so if you want more of my stuff, you can go there. Thank you so much for reading! I might do a recovery story sometime soon, so follow to be updated when that comes out. Thanks again, and please review.

BYIE!

~Mouse


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